My phoneith got runnith over.

I knew I packed too much: lasagna, pumpkin spice creamer, and a Greek yogurt parfait. Along with my usual change of clothes and bulky highlighter jacket that I wear on the ride home for safety. It’s a small backpack, but I crammed it all in there.

The pocket where I usually store my phone was too tightly compressed from the other items, so I slipped it into a different pocket this time.

When I got to the guard gate, I swiped in as usual and I noticed a coworker nearby. She was headed in the same direction. I tried to get her attention to say hello. And hello! We walked together to the building elevators in silence. It was much too loud on the lot to speak. Trucks, cranes and lots of grip equipment. A very busy morning on the lot. The noise is how I didn’t hear my phone hit the ground.

When I got to my desk to unload my food rations, I couldn’t feel my phone anywhere in my backpack. I immediately checked FIND MY IPHONE to see if it was still on the dining room table. Nope. Here on the lot. How so? Where?

I emptied out the backpack and instead of going to the bathroom to change my clothes– I follow my gut to retrace my steps. By the time I got to the guard gate, I still see nothing on the ground. I almost didn’t want to bring it up with security. I didn’t want to bother them. I felt shame in loosing it in the first place. I finally spoke up awkwardly:

Me: I dropped something, but I don’t see it. Meh– must not be here.

Them: Is it a phone?

Me: Yes…

They show me a phone with a badly shattered screen. It’s mine. Definitely mine. Definitely in very bad shape. Pieces of glass missing. Definitely ran the FUCK over.

I couldn’t help myself. Tears. Tears of not-today. Of not-now. Of auughh-gawd.

Sharp stories fill my head: This is why I can’t have nice things. This is what I deserve. This is a reflection of your ability to be a responsible adult. A reflection of your worth. A reflection of your maturity. All not true. All hitting me at 100 mph.

Just that morning, I was feeling especially annoyed with my Iphone for being glitchy and slow recently: a sticky home button, notifications upgrading and glitchy text messages interfering with my communication with loved ones. I then told myself: be patient until next Fall. Then you’ll be able to get a new phone. Yours works, kinda-fine. It’s alright.

Well, the universe said– you need a new phone NOW. But did it?

Or is my phone a metaphor for me? I was working kinda-fine. Getting by. But I took a major fall to see the truth, the damage and the true need for repair.

And repair I did. I took my phone to a guy that only needed 15 minutes and $65 in cash to make my phone look brand new. It got ran over. How does it still work? How was it just the screen? I was ready to throw it out completely. Baby with the bathwater.

My final thoughts:

Repair is done in practice. I’ll try not to be over zealous with packing my packpack.

I’m learning to be at peace when it’s time for change– being at peace with accepting the new. And being grateful for the entire experience.



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